


if the sun didn't sleep the stars couldn't shine

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Dream Sex, F/F, Hair Pulling, Nipple Play, Rimming, Somnophilia, Vaginal Fingering, bed sharing, meandering conversations, thigh humping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 09:35:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25348552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: The Doctor has been having some trouble sleeping.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 81





	if the sun didn't sleep the stars couldn't shine

“Yaz, can I ask you a personal question?” The Doctor leaned heavily against the kitchen table in the TARDIS, and she seemed to be swaying.

“Sure,” said Yaz, and she frowned. “You okay, Doctor? You look a bit… peaky.” _Wrecked_ was honestly a better descriptor, but even in the confines of her own head, it felt unkind. 

“That’s a bit related to my question,” the Doctor said, and she sat down on a chair, which creaked ominously. “So.”

“So,” Yaz echoed, and she took a bite of her sandwich.

“You sleep, right?” The Doctor asked it so earnestly that Yaz bit back a giggle. 

“‘Course I do,” said Yaz. “I’m human. Humans sleep.”

“You lot figured out how to not sleep, for a while,” said the Doctor, and she made a vague hand motion. “Of course, after you did that a whole bunch of you went insane and started committing rogue acts of architecture. And murder.” 

“Bit of a difference there, I think,” Yaz said. She took a sip of tea, and she rested her chin on the palm of her hand. “So was that what you wanted to ask me?” 

“No,” said the Doctor, and she blinked, frowning. “Tryin’ to remember what I was gonna ask you now. Seems to have slipped out of my head.”

“Doctor, are _you_ getting enough sleep?” Yaz asked.

“That’s what I was gonna ask,” the Doctor said, and she snapped her fingers. “How d’you stay asleep?”

“Hm?” Yaz frowned. “What d’you mean, stay asleep?”

“Like... “ The Doctor made an expansive hand gesture. “Like… you lie down, head meets pillow, you close your eyes, maybe you drift off a bit… and then you just sleep?”

“Something like that, yeah,” said Yaz. “Sometimes I’ll listen to a podcast, to help me drift off a bit, or maybe a book on tape, but… otherwise, yeah.”

“And then you just… sleep?” The Doctor looked like she was mentally taking notes.

“Yep,” said Yaz, although now she was starting to doubt herself. It felt strange to be discussing a bodily function in such intense detail. 

“Do you… like, is there something special about your bed that makes it more… helpful for sleeping?” The Doctor yawned cavernously, and she rubbed her eyes. 

“Not that I know of,” said Yaz. “You can, uh, you can try sleeping in my bed, if you’d like,” she added. “Not while I’m in it,” she added hurriedly, and she tried to hide the way her whole face was heating up. “There’s loads of bedrooms around in the TARDIS, I’m sure I can find a bed that’ll be comfy enough for me to catch some sleep.”

Was she imagining things, or had the Doctor’s face fallen? 

“Of course,” the Doctor said, and she grinned at Yaz. “That’s a great offer. Thank you.” 

“It is, _technically_ , your bed,” Yaz reminded the Doctor. “Since it’s _your_ TARDIS.” 

“I mean, technically, yeah, but possession is nine tenths of the law, or somethin’ like that,” said the Doctor. “I mean, you _could_ have that bed, if you wanted to. It’d be a pain in the arse to actually get out of the TARDIS, since it’s up that flight of steps, but…” She gave another wide yawn, so wide Yaz fancied she heard the Doctor’s jaw crack. 

“As an officer of the law, I’d have to disagree with you,” said Yaz. “But as your friend, I think you should get some sleep,” she added. “What’s keeping you up, anyway?”

“Oh, y’know,” the Doctor said. “There’s always so much to do. So much to think about.” She yawned again. “Always end up being distracted by my own thoughts, you know how it is.” 

“I can relate,” Yaz agreed, although she didn’t have too much experience with sleep problems. She had apparently been a good sleeper as a baby (especially compared to Sonya), and generally if she worked herself hard enough she slept well. “D’y want to go to my bed right now?” She paused. “Unless you feel weird about sleepin’ in the middle of the day.” 

“We’re in a time machine, parked in the Time Vortex,” said the Doctor. “It isn’t really any time, and it’s _all_ times at the same time!” She made a grand, expansive gesture with her arms, and Yaz snorted. 

Oh, Doctor. 

“You wanna sleep in my bed, be my guest,” said Yaz. 

“In that case,” said the Doctor, “I’m gonna go sleep _right now_. Such a sleep I’m gonna have!” She stood up, and she wobbled just a little as she did so. “You, uh, you need anything from your room? Before I go in, I mean.” 

“I’ll be okay,” Yaz told her. “Have a good rest.” 

_My sheets are gonna smell like her, afterwards,_ Yaz thought, watching the Doctor retreat. She imagined lying in bed, pressing her face into the pillow that smelled like the Doctor’s shampoo. She pressed her thighs together, and she tried to stop the blush from spreading across her face.

She failed, of course, but… well, at least she tried, right?

* * *

Three hours later, the Doctor wandered into the small lounge room, looking rather worse for wear.

Yaz frowned, looking up at her friend. “What happened to having such a sleep?” she asked. 

“Couldn’t get to sleep,” the Doctor groused. She flopped onto the sofa with Yaz, and she leaned back, her eyes half shut. “I lay there, and it was comfy as anything, but I just… couldn’t get to sleep.” 

“That’s unfortunate,” Yaz said, and she gave the Doctor a conciliatory pat on the shoulder. 

The Doctor leaned into it, and she yawned again. “What’re you up to?” Her voice was sleepy. 

“Eh, not much,” said Yaz. “Watchin’ a movie, readin’ a book.” She had a novel open on her stomach, and there was a film playing on the big screen television.

“Ooh, Metropolis,” said the Doctor. “Didn’t fancy you as a fan of silent movies.” She still had her head on Yaz’s shoulder, and seemed to be relaxing.

“I did a course in school, about the history of cinema,” said Yaz. “They showed a bunch of the old movies. I thought, since we’ve got some downtime, I’d revisit them.” 

The Doctor shifted, until her legs were dangling over one leg of the couch, and her head was in Yaz’s blanket covered lap. “I was on the set of that,” the Doctor mumbled, and her eyes were sliding shut. “I’m one of the blokes in the ridiculous trousers, in the garden scene” 

“No way you were,” said Yaz. She was a bit at a loss as to what to do next. The Doctor wasn’t normally quite so… touchy-feely. But in her exhaustion, she seemed to be relaxing a bit. Maybe it was because it was just the two of them. Graham and Ryan were lovely, of course, but the Doctor was… open with Yaz in a way she wasn’t with them. 

“I so was,” the Doctor said. She yawned again, and Yaz yawned back. “Good bloke, Fritz,” she murmured.

“Should I rewind, to see if I can find you?” Yaz groped for the remote.

“Nah,” said the Doctor. “It was a different face, ‘n I was wearing so much stage makeup I don’t know if I’d’ve recognized _myself_ in the mirror.” 

Yaz rested a cautious hand on top of the Doctor’s head, and found it warm. Cooler than a human’s, to be sure, but most definitely someone alive.

The Doctor sighed, and seemed to go even more floppy. “‘S’nice,” she slurred. “Think… think this is the first time I’ve had enough hair to plait, in a long time.”

“I’ll do yours later,” Yaz promised, still sifting thin blond hair through her fingers. 

On the screen, a giant machine turned into some kind of giant, man eating statue, and Yaz let herself be taken back into the movie, still fully conscious of the warm weight against her.

* * *

The Doctor slept through the rest of _Metropolis_ , _The Birds_ , and the opening of _Psycho_. When the iconic violins started playing, she jerked awake, sitting up abruptly and looking around anxiously. 

“What happened?” The Doctor asked. She yawned, and she rubbed her eyes.

“You fell asleep,” Yaz told her. “I think you needed it, as exhausted as you were.” 

“Are,” the Doctor corrected. “Am?” She paused, wrinkling her nose, and then she yawned again. “Best sleep I’ve had in ages, though,” she added. “ _Only_ sleep I’ve had in ages.” 

“So my bed didn’t work,” Yaz said. “D’you think a couch nap might help? I know sometimes that’s what I need.” 

“Nah, been trying couches,” the Doctor said. “I think it’s you.”

Yaz’s heart sped up, and she hoped that the Doctor wouldn’t notice. Not that the Doctor had shown any ability to notice that kind of thing so far, but you never knew. “Me?”

“I read somewhere that some people require more physical touch than others,” said the Doctor. Her expression was thoughtful now. “Maybe this body is especially skin hungry.” 

“Skin hungry,” Yaz echoed, and she wrinkled her nose. “That’s a term, that.”

“Perfectly viable term, thank you very much,” the Doctor said, sticking her tongue out at Yaz.

_You should kiss her_ , thought Yaz, and the butterflies in her stomach seemed to flutter around faster. It wasn’t the first time she’d had the thought. It probably wouldn’t be the last. 

“This body might be especially skin hungry,” the Doctor repeated. “Maybe some part of my brain just misses having more people around, so it gets all… clingy.”

_She misses Ryan and Graham_ , Yaz thought, and she tried to ignore the disappointment that flared up. A crush was like a fire. You just had to smother it.

She’d never been very good at that. 

“Well,” said Yaz, “I’m sure you’ll be able to find some more people to travel with you.”

“I don’t want more people to travel with, unless I’m with you, too,” the Doctor said, her tone earnest, and Yaz’s chest went tight. She also couldn’t think of a response, so she stared down at her hands.

“Can I sleep with you?” The Doctor asked.

Whatever Yaz had been expecting the Doctor to say, it hadn’t been _that_. “What?” She blinked at the Doctor, trying to banish all the exciting images that were dancing through her head. 

“In your bed. With you,” said the Doctor. “Since I slept okay with you on the couch with me. So maybe I just need some… skin company, to calm everything down.” She was shooting Yaz a hopeful look, her lower lip sticking out with just the _hint_ of a pout.

“Sure,” said Yaz. “Sure, you can, uh, you can sleep with me. Although is it time to sleep?” Everything had a slightly dreamlike quality, and the golden light seemed to be pulsing gently, in time with the gentle throb of the TARDIS.

“It can be, if you want it to be,” said the Doctor. She was leaning against the couch, her eyes at half mast, and she looked like she was halfway to sleep already.

“Sure,” said Yaz. “I could do with a bit of shut eye.” She didn’t feel that tired, really, but the idea of lying with the Doctor in the dark, just the two of them under the covers… 

“Excellent,” said the Doctor, and then she was up, and making her way towards Yaz’s bedroom. “C’mon, let’s get a shift on,” she said over her shoulder. “I’ve got some _resting_ to do.”

“I think you’re defeating the point of resting, if you’re runnin’ towards it,” Yaz called. 

“Exercising is a bit like running towards rest,” the Doctor countered.

“Speaking of, didja try that?” Yaz wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, letting it trail after her like cape. She liked that little lounge - hopefully the TARDIS would keep it. 

“Yeah,” said the Doctor. “Then I was just tired _and_ achy.” She made a face. “Can’t hurt to try this, at least.”

“Let me just… get ready for bed,” Yaz said. She noticed the Doctor standing right by her door. “You gonna go in?”

“Waiting for you to invite me,” the Doctor said. 

“What are you, a vampire?” Yaz opened the door, tossing the blanket onto the pile on the arm chair by her door. It already had three other blankets piled up - the TARDIS usually took them and redistributed them to… wherever it was they went, when she was tired of the pile. Yaz wasn’t going to ask. She flipped the lights on, and was very glad she’d decided to put her laundry away. It would’ve been especially embarrassing if she’d invited the Doctor for a snooze, and her knickers were scattered all over the duvet.

At least they’d be clean, in that case, but still. 

“No,” said the Doctor. “Although I met some. Sort of.” She kicked her boots off, and shrugged out of her coat, draping it amongst the blankets. “They were technically alien space fish, although they didn’t have the traditional…” She made a pair of fangs with her fingers, over her eyeteeth. “More like…” She made her fingers into claws, and held them in front of her mouth.

Yaz snickered. “I haven’t the foggiest what you mean by that,” she told the Doctor.

“I’m not entirely sure either, if it helps,” said the Doctor. She slid her thumbs under her braces, shrugging out of them and rolling her shoulders. “Everything is all muddled up in my head.” She was fumbling with her back, pawing at the fabric of her shirt. Then Yaz realized that the Doctor was taking her bra off, and _that_ was something intense to think about, in ways that Yaz wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to look at too closely.

“I’m gonna go, uh, brush my teeth,” said Yaz, indicating the en suite bathroom. 

“Sounds good,” said the Doctor, still preoccupied with taking her bra off. 

* * *

_I don’t actually need to brush my teeth_ , Yaz thought, blinking in the brightness of the bathroom. _It’s the middle of the day._ She’d just needed to get out, as the Doctor undressed.

Some of it was probably autopilot. She brushed her teeth and put her pajamas on before bed, and her pajamas were right there in a pile, where she’d left them this morning. it felt odd to do it _now_ , but then again, the Doctor had a point about the Time Vortex.

It was all times and no time, so of course it was also bedtime. 

Sort of.

Thinking about it too hard made her head hurt. 

* * *

The Doctor was curled up under the covers, her trousers in a heap by the side of the bed. Her hair was like a blond halo around her head, and her eyes were half shut already. In the golden light, she looked like some Byzantine saint. Yaz paused, to just _look_ , and then she cleared her throat. 

Her pajamas - an old pair of pajama pants printed with little cactuses, and a tank top - seemed surprisingly skimpy. She also wasn’t wearing a bra or knickers, which was how she normally slept.

And yet.

Yaz turned the light off, and her hands were only shaking a little. She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous. It was just sleeping.

_Just sleeping with the beautiful, funny, super intelligent alien who you’ve had a crush on since you’ve met her,_ pointed out her obnoxious logical mind. _Just sleeping._

Yaz climbed into the bed beside the Doctor, and the Doctor made a sleepy noise, turning towards Yaz. Her body shifted under the blankets like a continent beneath the dirt, and the curve of her hip and her shoulder was like a mountain range in the distance. Yaz lay on her back, staring at the ceiling through her eyelashes. 

"I can put a podcast on to help you sleep, if you'd like," she murmured, after a minute had gone by. "If… you're still h-having trouble sleeping." She yawned. She hadn't been that tired, but now that she was in bed, sleep was tugging at her limbs like a gravity well. It was almost like she was sinking into the bed. 

"Think 'm good," the Doctor murmured, and then there was just the sound of her steady, even breathing. 

_I'm glad she doesn't snore_ , Yaz thought, and then she was drifting into sleep herself. 

* * *

Yaz dreamed. 

She knew, in the back of her mind, that she was dreaming - she could feel the pull of the dream like gravity, or undertow at the beach.

In the dream, it was _hot_ \- the kind of intense, swampy heat that Yaz associated with jungle planets. Her nan had told her about the hot, sticky summers growing up in Pakistan, and this was what she had imagined it being like. A down comforter draped across her, except somehow the comforter was taking shape, gaining a more solid substance. 

In the dream, Yaz stood in the middle of a great, rambling house, filled with dusty antiques and equally dusty sunlight flooding in through the huge, dirty windows. There was nothing but _stuff_ all around her, and the heat seemed to be growing. 

Yaz took off her jacket, letting it land in a heap on the floor. In the real world, she would worry about dust, but that wasn't a problem in her dream. She pulled her sweater up and off her feet, untied her boots and slipped them off. 

Oddly, the more clothing she took off, the warmer she got. By the time she had shed the two sweaters, the scarf, her trousers, the long underwear, and her socks, she was _even warmer_. All the places the air came into contact with her bare skin, she was burning up. It was almost taking a physical form, as if some unseen hands were running up and down her bare skin. She moaned, as her breasts were groped and kneaded through her camisole (and why was she wearing so many clothes in the first place?), and then that was being pulled over her head by those same hands. 

Yaz leaned back, because somehow there was now something (someone?) for her to lean back against. She sighed, as someone rutted against her backside. She was... someplace dark, someplace close, but it didn't feel claustrophobic. It was safe, like being a rabbit in a burrow. She could distantly sense all of the earth (but was it earth from Earth, or was she on some alien planet?) on top of her, keeping her safe. She was safe, pressed up against the strange warmth that seemed to be sinking into her skin, filling her up. She squirmed against it, and the hands (more hands now) were sliding down her stomach, pushing down her trousers.

The air was cool against her sweaty legs, and even her socks were being pulled off, leaving her bare toes to... float? She wasn't interacting with the ground, somehow, and that was odd, but she wasn't going to complain about the lack of sense, when warm fingers were sliding between her toes, along the soles of her feet, up her calves. Her trousers were discarded, and now someone was cupping her through her knickers. A hand was _in_ her knickers, a thumb was rubbing her clit, and she was grinding her hips into it, she was moaning, but more fingers were in her mouth. 

She couldn't keep track of the hands, of what was doing what. There was a burst of heat as her cunt was breached, and then another, as a finger slid into her arse. The heat should have been too much, but it _wasn't_ , it seemed to envelop her, like napping in a sunbeam. She moaned, her head going back, and it was like she was floating. The fingers in her cunt pressed harder, almost like a cock, and the fingers in her arse spread out. She was taking it all in, more and more heat building inside of her, sweet pleasure building as it raced along her nerves.

Yaz's eyes were closed, and fireworks seemed to be going off behind them. She was being fully enveloped in warmth, in heat, and it was pulsing with her heartbeat - with another heartbeat, too, or maybe two heartbeats, because the pulse seemed to be double, and it was filling her whole self up like water being poured into a glass. She could see the colors, her whole mind full of them, full of light, golden and blue and -

* * *

Yaz woke up, her cunt pulsing with her orgasm, and she lay there as the pleasure raced up and down her nerves. She was panting, sweat dripping down her sides and collecting in her armpits, the backs of her knees. There was a hand on her breast, fingers squeezing it loosely, and a body spooned up against her. She was on her side, and there were soft breasts against her back and hot breath against the back of her neck.

The Doctor was moaning in Yaz's ear, and her hand was clumsily groping at Yaz's breast. Her hips were jerking against Yaz's backside, and there was a knee pushed between Yaz's legs, right up against her cunt. 

Yaz moaned, low enough that she couldn't even hear it, and she let her eyes drift shut as she ground down on the knee. It was nice, lying here in the dark. She didn't have to ask questions, didn't have to say anything, just let herself be _touched_. It was a bit like her dream, in the darkness and the safety, but the Doctor's hands were cooler, and seemed a little bit less assured. Yaz would have gone so far to call them clumsy. 

"Doctor," Yaz mumbled, and she wriggled. This was probably a thing they should have talked about, beforehand. It didn't seem as important, here in the warm darkness. 

The Doctor's fingers were pinching her nipple, and the Doctor's mouth was wet on the back of her neck, and she was whimpering in her sleep. Then the Doctor froze against her, going stiff as a board. 

"Yaz?" The Doctor's voice was quiet. As close together as they were, it vibrated through her chest, against Yaz's back. 

"Yeah?" Yaz's own voice sounded very loud, even over the beating of her own heart. 

"What's going on?" The Doctor's hand was still on Yaz's breast, pressed flat now. She must have been able to feel Yaz's heart beating. 

"Well," said Yaz, "we were sleeping, and then, uh... then I had a dream, and when I woke up... when I woke up, there was, uh..." Yaz cleared her throat. "You were touching me." 

"I'm sorry," the Doctor said. She let go of Yaz's breast, and she was rolling onto her back. "Would you believe me if I said I was asleep as well?" She sounded _guilty_ , and that wasn't a tone that Yaz was used to hearing in her friend's voice. 

"Never heard of sleep groping," said Yaz. She was trying to sound teasing, but the Doctor seemed to get even stiffer. 

"I'm sorry," the Doctor mumbled. "I'm so, _so_ sorry, Yaz." There was a rustling, and when Yaz rolled onto her other side to face the Doctor, she could make out the dark shape of the Doctor rubbing her face. 

"Why are you sorry?" Yaz propped her head up on one hand.

"Yaz, I was... I was touching you. _Intimately_. In your sleep." The Doctor sounded really broken up about it, too. "I... that isn't... okay."

"I'm not bothered," Yaz said quickly. "Not... not bothered at all." She cleared her throat. "You could... I mean, if you wanted to, you could do it again." 

"I was asleep, though," said the Doctor. She had uncovered her face, at least. Yaz could make out the faint outline of her profile from the little band of light shining in from under the door. 

"Would you not want to do it while you were awake, then?" It felt odd, to be having this kind of conversation with the Doctor when she was still tingling with the aftermath of her orgasm. 

"What I want isn't the point," the Doctor said, and her tone was urgent. She rolled onto her side, so that she was facing Yaz. Maybe she was looking into Yaz's face. 

_Can she see in the dark?_ Yaz wondered. "I'd say it is," said Yaz. "Since I'm okay with it, so it's partially what I want." _Oh no, I can't believe I just said that._

"Oh," said the Doctor. "I mean. Um." She cleared her throat. "I wouldn't... I wouldn't be averse to doing it while awake, either. While... while either of us are awake. Both. While both of us are awake."

"If you want, I can go back to sleep," Yaz said, and she was teasing. Mostly. Maybe? 

"No, no," the Doctor said quickly. "I like it when you're awake. Humans: most fun when they're awake." 

"I do try to be fun," Yaz agreed.

There was an awkward silence.

"Do you... I mean, didja mean it when you said you liked it?" The Doctor sounded almost... hopeful. It made Yaz's stomach clench up, more arousal building up low in her belly.

"I did," said Yaz. "I liked it a lot."

"Would you wanna keep doing that, maybe? Only with both of us being... awake, aware, that sort of thing." The Doctor flopped onto her back, and she made an amused noise. "Y'know, when I was plannin' this out, it was never _quite_ this awkward. I think I'm just more socially awkward, this go 'round."

"You've planned this out, then?" Yaz inched a little closer, still on her side. She was close enough now that she could feel the warmth of the Doctor's radiating against her. 

"Well, no," said the Doctor. "I mean, I might've entertained the occasional... scenario, but I was kinda hopin' things would... go the way they wanted. As it were." She cleared her throat. "I'm bullocksing this up, aren't I?"

"I've seen worse," Yaz said. Her heart was beating very fast in her ears, and her mouth was very dry.

"Well, obviously," said the Doctor. "It's so dark in here you can't see - mmf!"

Yaz, tired of the banter (or maybe just running out of patience in general) leaned forward and kissed the Doctor. By some miracle, she managed to more or less get her mouth against the Doctor's, even in the darkness. It was a quick, smacking kiss, and then she pulled back, terrified that she'd done something wrong. 

_Maybe I was reading it wrong. Although how could I have been reading it wrong, we just had a whole conversation about her feeling me up_ , thought some delirious part of Yaz's mind. _Shut up with the overthinking and kiss her again._

The Doctor's hands were on Yaz's shoulders, and the Doctor was hauling Yaz on top of her. The covers rustled, and then they were pushed down, as Yaz crouched over the Doctor, knees pressing into the Doctor's ribs. She squinted, and could make out the Doctor's shape. 

The Doctor was holding on to the back of Yaz's neck, pulling Yaz closer to her. She sighed, as Yaz's lips pressed against her own, her mouth parting, and then Yaz's tongue was in the Doctor's mouth, as the Doctor's hands ran up and down Yaz's sides. Her fingertips were sending tingling trails all across Yaz's nerves, spreading out from between her shoulder blades to the tips of her fingers. Yaz moaned, and the hand that wasn't supporting her went to the Doctor's face, cupping her cheek. She moved it up, to tangle in the Doctor's hair as she pressed her tongue against the Doctor's, and the Doctor gave a high pitched little moan when Yaz gave it a tug.

"Oh, I like that," the Doctor murmured. 

"What, this?" Yaz gave another tug of the Doctor's hair, and the Doctor arched against her. 

"Yeah," the Doctor said, her voice breathless. "Oh yes, that... please... _fuck_ , Yaz, do that again. Please," she added, almost as an afterthought. "Sorry, where are my manners?"

Yaz snorted. "Since when do you care about manners?" She twined the Doctor's hair around her fist, and she gave it another tug. 

The Doctor gasped, and her hips jerked forward. She was clutching at Yaz's back now, her fingers digging into Yaz's back. "I mean," the Doctor said, and her voice was breathless.

"You mean?" Yaz kissed the Doctor again, because she could, and because she liked the way the Doctor exhaled sharply against her mouth every time she tugged the Doctor's hair, liked the way the Doctor's nails dug into her back. The Doctor was always trying to be so put together - there was something so _satisfying_ about making her lose control like this. 

"I mean," the Doctor mumbled, when they broke apart, "there's a... y'know, a time and a place." 

"Time and a place," Yaz echoed. She sat up, letting go of the Doctor's hair, and her hands went to the hem of the Doctor's shirts. She paused - this was easier to do when she could see the other person's face - and then the Doctor's hands covered her own, and the two of them were pushing them up and off. The Doctor tossed them somewhere, and Yaz was confronted with the fact that she still had the lights out. 

She could, in theory, turn the light on, but that would mean getting out of bed, and this moment seemed so vital, so _fragile_. She let her hands drift down, to feel along the Doctor's collarbones, over the soft swell of her breasts, to her hard little nipples. The Doctor's hearts beat rapidly under her hands, and the Doctor's skin was warm and soft. 

"Haven't done much with those," the Doctor said. "I mean, not that there's much... I mean, there's only so much you _can_ do with them, but it's... it's still."

"I dunno," Yaz said. She kneaded the Doctor's breasts, pressing her palms into the Doctor's nipples, and the Doctor squirmed under her. "I think there's a lot you can do, if you're creative enough." 

Where was all this _confidence_ coming from? This was only the third time she'd ever had sex with another woman, and technically the first time she'd ever done it with an alien. 

She was probably overthinking it. She had the Doctor underneath her, soft and warm and moaning, and really, what more did she need? 

"I'm creative," the Doctor said. "Creative. Very creative. _So_ creative. Heaps of creativity. Buckets!"

"Are you?" Yaz twisted the Doctor's nipple between two fingers, and the Doctor hissed through her teeth.

"Definitely," the Doctor said, her voice faint. 

Yaz rearranged herself, until she could press her face into the valley between the Doctor's breasts. She nuzzled against it, mouthing along the side, and the Doctor's fingers went to the top of her head, tugging on her braid. 

"Y'know," the Doctor said, "I think this'd be easier if you took your hair out." She tugged gently on the braid.

"Keeps it out of my face," Yaz pointed out, "but you can untie it, if you want." Most of her attention was on the Doctor's breasts - how they felt under her hands, against her face. She kissed up one of them, then took the Doctor's nipple into her mouth, twisting the other one between her fingers. When the Doctor gasped, she took more of the Doctor's breast into her mouth, until she had as much as she could fit, and her teeth were digging into the soft skin. 

_Am I going to hurt her?_ Yaz wondered. 

"Bite me, please, please, please," the Doctor whined. "Bite me, I want you to bite me, please Yaz, please, I - _oh_!"

_Well, that answers that question_ , Yaz thought, as she flexed her jaw.

Yaz's teeth sank down, and she sucked hard enough that her mouth started to ache. She pulled off with a pop, then sucked on the very tip of the Doctor's nipple, running her teeth along the delicate skin. 

"Oh, _fuck_ ," the Doctor said, and Yaz had never heard her swear before. It made her shiver, pressing her thighs together. 

"Good, then?" Yaz flicked the tip of her tongue along the tip of the Doctor's nipple, and the Doctor made an incoherent noise, thrashing under her. 

_Gonna take that as a yes,_ Yaz thought, and she switched breasts. She bit the side of the Doctor's breast this time, and she sucked again, just as hard. She pressed a line of kisses to the Doctor's nipple, then licked it with the flat of her tongue. The way the Doctor trembled under her was intoxicating - she hadn't realized just how _sensitive_ the Doctor was. 

"That's... oo, that's weird," the Doctor said. Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. "I... mmm."

"Good weird?" Yaz asked, then circled the tip of her tongue along the Doctor's nipple, then sucked all of it into her mouth again, letting her tongue trace little circles along the edges of the Doctor's nipple.

"Good weird, good weird, very good weird, excellent weird," the Doctor babbled. Her hands were on the back of Yaz's neck now, keeping her in place. 

_Of course she's a talker_ , Yaz thought, and then she bit again, a little gentler than the last time. She sucked again, and twisted the Doctor's other nipple between two fingers. The Doctor's fingernails were digging into her now, and the little sharp pains made Yaz's toes curl. 

"Yaz, do that again," the Doctor moaned. "Oh _fuck_."

_Wait, what did I just do?_ Yaz hadn't been paying much attention, truth be told. She was so caught up in cataloging all of the Doctor's reactions, drunk on her skin, her scent. _Oh god, I don't know what I'm doing._

Yaz pinched the Doctor's nipple, and bit the other one, with just enough force that she was a little worried it was too much. The Doctor _howled_ , her back arching, and then she was yanking Yaz up by the hair (a little too hard, _ow_ ), and then they were kissing. Well, no, first the Doctor was kissing her nose, but then they were kissing each other again, and the Doctor was trembling. 

"I've never had an orgasm like that," the Doctor said dazedly, when they broke apart. 

"What, an orgasm, just from that?" Yaz sighed, as the Doctor's fingers moved to the base of her braid, tugging the tie off. 

"Yeah," the Doctor said. "Seems I'm a lot more sensitive, this go 'round." She made a sheepish noise. "Two orgasms in a night. Practically a record for me, I think."

"What, two?" Yaz blinked. "Two?" 

"I, uh..." The Doctor cleared her throat. "Had a dream. Like y'do. I used to occasionally have 'em, back in the day, when I were a man. Less messy with this set up, at least." 

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Yaz said, and oh _god_ , she'd said that, hadn't she? She was blushing so hard she could feel it up to her ears.

"Do they get messy, when you have 'em?" The Doctor's tone was entirely too neutral - she had to be teasing. 

"They can be, yeah," said Yaz. "Depends on the dream, stuff like that." 

"You should check," said the Doctor. "For me, I mean. Since you have more experience with that sort of thing."

"Y'know, if you want my face in your cunt, you can just ask," Yaz said, with more bravado than she felt. 

"Feels rude to do it that way," the Doctor protested. 

"Since when d'you care about being rude or not?" Yaz countered. Her heart was beating very loudly in her ears, and the echoing throb of her clit was enough to make her whole body _ache_.

"I wanna make a good impression," the Doctor protested weakly. "Especially with this being my first time. With you, and in general."

"What, ever?" The Doctor had offhandedly mentioned being more than two thousand years old at one point. Yaz didn't doubt that someone could be celibate for that long, if they wanted to be, but the Doctor was always seeking out new experiences.

"Well, not ever-ever," said the Doctor. "But since I've been a woman." 

"Right," said Yaz. "Well, um." She faltered. She'd been so confident, but knowing she was the Doctor's _first_ , that... that was a lot of pressure. Maybe. Or maybe she was just overthinking the whole thing too much. She began to make her way down the Doctor's body, pausing to rest her face in the Doctor's soft, warm belly. 

The Doctor's fingers were very gentle as she separated the sections of Yaz's hair, smoothing it out. Yaz sighed, as the pads of the Doctor's fingers passed over her scalp, and she shivered, goosebumps rolling across her back like wind through a wheat field. 

"I've wanted to do this since the first time I saw you," the Doctor said, and her tone was getting dreamy. "You had your hair pinned up, and I wanted to take your helmet off and unpin your hair and unbraid it and run my fingers through it."

"What, really?" Yaz remembered the evening they'd met - it was mostly a blur of running. 

"Yeah," the Doctor said. "You've got such lovely hair, Yaz. It's so soft." She tugged it, gently, and Yaz leaned into it. The tingles going up and down her spine were lulling her into some foggy, comfortable state. She could hear the Doctor's hearts beating, faintly, and the rise and fall of the Doctor's stomach was lulling her back towards sleep.

It was weird, to transition from the frantic desperation of their kissing to this quiet cuddling, but it felt so natural that Yaz didn't even question it.

"Of course," the Doctor added, her tone thoughtful, "whenever I see girls with pretty hair I also wanna do _this_." The Doctor pulled, and it was exactly the way Yaz loved having her hair pulled - right at the root, forcing her head back. The pressure was enough to make her moan and shudder, and the sleepy comfort was replaced with more burning, desperate arousal. 

"Oh," Yaz murmured, and she pressed a kiss to the Doctor's belly. 

"D'you like that?" The Doctor let go of Yaz's hair, and began to run her fingers through it again. "I'm sorry. Is that one of them things you're supposed to ask first? I feel like it was." 

"'S'generally polite," Yaz said, and she scooted lower, to nibble at the soft skin under the Doctor's navel, "but I'm not complaining."

"That's good," the Doctor said, then; "am I wet?"

Yaz burst out laughing. She couldn't help it - it was such a straightforward question, with such an obvious answer. 

"What?" The Doctor sounded faintly embarrassed. "I'd give a feel myself, but you're kinda... blockin' the way."

"Can you not tell?" Yaz shuffled even lower, until she could comfortably fit her hand between the Doctor's thighs. She ran the tip of her finger along the seam of the Doctor's labia, through her boxers, and the Doctor shuddered, thighs going tense. 

"I... there's usually a l-l-lot going on down there," the Doctor protested. "And out here," she added. 

"Still," said Yaz. She shifted so that she was up on her elbows, and she slipped her thumbs under the waistband of the boxers. "Can I take 'em off?"

"Yeah, give us a mo," the Doctor said, and then there was an awkward moment of wriggling hips and flailing limbs. When everything was resettled, Yaz was lying on her belly between the Doctor's legs, and her nose was a few inches from the Doctor's cunt. She could smell it, musky and thick, and her mouth was already starting to water.

Yaz put her hands on the Doctor's inner thighs, and she inched forward. She licked along the Doctor's slit, and the Doctor froze over her, heels digging into Yaz's sides.

"Oh," the Doctor said. "Oh, that's..." 

The Doctor's pubic hair was wet enough that it didn't tickle Yaz's nose when she moved in closer, her hands sliding under the Doctor's thighs, to pull her closer. She whined when Yaz's tongue wriggled between her labia, and then she _squealed_ , when the tip of Yaz's tongue swirled over her clit.

Yaz just... drowned in it. The Doctor's hands were in her hair again (when had that happened?), and the Doctor's hips were rolling up to meet her. She kept her face buried in the Doctor's cunt, and she licked and sucked, letting her tongue explore every single part of it. There was something gratifying about sinking into the hot, wet heat, about letting her mind blank out. At one point she came back to herself enough to ask the Doctor for a pillow, which she then shoved under the Doctor's bum, making it easier for Yaz's tongue to fuck her, as Yaz's nose ground against her clit.

The Doctor came in a rush of wetness across Yaz's face, and Yaz wrapped her lips around the Doctor's clit and _sucked_ , just to prolong the orgasm. The Doctor was making incoherent little noises, as Yaz rode the orgasm out with her, and then she gasped, as Yaz's tongue wriggled its way inside of her again, Yaz's thumb holding her labia open. 

"Oh, that's... a lot," the Doctor said, and her thighs went tense, squeezing Yaz, then spreading open again. She moaned, humping Yaz's face, and Yaz dug her fingers into the Doctor’s hips, and the Doctor hissed. 

Yaz opened her mouth a little wider, and until she could cover all of the Doctor's vulva. She licked again, from hole to clit, and back down again, just to feel the Doctor shiver and gasp against her. She wasn't usually this... shameless, when it came to eating someone out - there was usually a bit of self consciousness, a _what if I'm doing this wrong_ voice nagging in the back of her head. But the Doctor hadn't ever done this before, so it wasn't as if she could compare Yaz unfavorably to someone else, right? And anyway, the Doctor wasn't known for holding her tongue when she was annoyed.

The darkness helped. The darkness, the intense intimacy that seemed to be boiling between the two of them, feelings coming to a head after who knew how long they'd been simmering. 

It was just Yaz and the Doctor, Yaz's tongue and the Doctor's hot, wet cunt. For this moment in time, nothing else existed in the universe, and nothing else needed to. 

Yaz pulled back, just enough to catch her breath, and she bit the Doctor on the inner thigh. She sucked until her mouth hurt, and the Doctor squeaked when Yaz pulled off.

"You are gonna have a _massive_ hickey," Yaz murmured, and she kissed the wet spot on the Doctor's thigh (as if any one spot could be considered _a_ wet spot, when the Doctor's thighs were slick with sweat and spit and arousal. 

"I can wear a turtleneck," the Doctor said. She still sounded dazed. 

Yaz paused, trying to parse the sentence. "How is a turtleneck gonna help you with a hickey on your _thigh_?" 

"Oh," the Doctor said, and then she giggled. "Sorry. I'm a million miles away."

"Guess I'll have to bring you back to Earth," Yaz said, in an attempt to sound suave. 

"But we're not on Earth, we're - _ooh!_." The Doctor stopped mid-sentence, as Yaz's face pressed back into her cunt, tongue plunging into her. She angled her head so that the tip of her nose was against the Doctor's clit, as she swirled her tongue over the entrance of the Doctor's cunt, then pressed it all the way inside. The Doctor's thighs were getting tight on either side of her head, pressing into her ears. Everything smelled like sex, everything tasted like sex, and then the Doctor's back was arching, her toes curling against the fabric of Yaz's tank top ( _why am I still dressed?_ ), and her voice was getting higher with each stroke of Yaz's tongue. 

Yaz shifted, until she could press a finger inside of the Doctor. She shivered, as the muscles clamped down around her, and she shuffled forward, wrapping her lips around the Doctor's clit and sucking, as she curled her finger up. Her tongue flickered over the Doctor's clit, as she curled and straightened her finger, making her knuckle bulge. 

"Another," the Doctor whined, and it was a proper whine, long and drawn out. "I want another, please, Yaz, I _need_ another, I'm gonna - yes, that, exactly, thank you, thank you, thank..." She trailed off into a long, needy moan as two fingers penetrated her, and then she squealed again, as Yaz gave her clit a particularly hard suck. Her hands were in Yaz's hair, keeping Yaz's mouth where she wanted it. Her cunt was squeezing Yaz's fingers tight, tight enough that they were starting to ache, but that didn't matter, none of that mattered. All that mattered was the desperation in the Doctor's voice, and the way her whole body was getting tighter and tighter, her clit throbbing under Yaz's tongue. 

The Doctor came with a gasp, and her cunt pulsed around Yaz's fingers like a star, and Yaz pulled her fingers free to kiss the Doctor's mound, then under her navel. 

"Your _mouth_ ," the Doctor said, and her voice was tinged with wonder. "Yasmin Khan, you... I want it on all of me. All the time." She paused. "Well, not all the time, obviously; I need to fix the TARDIS and it'd be awkward to have a peace negotiation while -"

"I get what you mean, Doctor," Yaz said, before the Doctor could go on a full tangent, and she was kissing down the line of the Doctor's slit again, slipping her tongue inside of the Doctor's cunt to gently thumb her clit. 

"I want your mouth on all of me," the Doctor repeated. "All of me, Yaz, you're just..." She trailed off, and Yaz was grinning a bit in spite of herself.

"What, all of you?" Yaz shifted, tilting her head a bit further back, then let her tongue trail a little lower, along the Doctor's perineum. This was, admittedly, new territory, but wasn't everything, with the Doctor.

The Doctor tilted her hips up, spreading her legs a little wider and giving Yaz better access to her arse. " _All_ of me," she said fervently. 

“If you’re sure,” Yaz said, and was she stalling because she was nervous, or because she was worried the Doctor was nervous?

“Do I ever do anything I’m not sure about?” There was a hint of challenge in the Doctor’s tone.

“Fair enough,” said Yaz, although she was pretty sure she could think of a few times the Doctor had jumped in feet first without thinking. She spread the cheeks of the Doctor’s arse with both hands, and then she licked over the Doctor’s hole with the flat of her tongue.

The Doctor’s arousal had dripped down, and she caught glimpses of that, mixed with the familiar taste of skin. Her fingers were sliding in sweat, dimpling the soft skin of the Doctor’s arse, and the Doctor was groaning again. 

Yaz let go of one cheek, letting the tip of her tongue probe into the Doctor's hole, as her index swirled over the Doctor’s clit. She pressed her thumb into the Doctor’s cunt and her tongue further into the Doctor’s arse, and she licked and sucked until her jaw was sore, and the Doctor was quaking against her. She pulled her tongue out, to lap around the edge, and the Doctor keened and thrashed, nearly kneeing Yaz in the face. 

The Doctor came when Yaz’s tongue pushed back into her, cunt and arse fluttering around Yaz. _This would feel amazing if I had a cock_ , Yaz thought dazedly, and then she was pulling back to catch her breath, resting her forehead against the Doctor’s inner thigh. Her hair was sticking to the sweaty skin, but that was fine, everything was fine, she was so turned on she was fairly certain that she had left a wet spot on the bed, 

She’d worry about that later.

“Yaz,” the Doctor was chanting, “Yaz, Yaz, Yaz, please, can you… I…” Her voice cracked, and her hands came down, to comb through Yaz’s sweaty hair. “Yaz, can you… in me?”

“Already in you,” Yaz said, and she wriggled her thumb. She was rewarded with another hip twitch. 

“But you could be… more in me,” the Doctor said, and she cleared her throat. “If’n you want, I mean.” 

_Oh my god, have I finally found something for her to be embarrassed about?_ That was a revelation. “D’you want me to finger your arse, Doctor?” It felt so pornographic, spilling out of her mouth like that, even with her chin wet with drool and slick. 

“Yes,” the Doctor said. “Yes, that’s exactly what I want you to do. Thank you.”

Yaz snickered. “You sound like I just passed you the salt,” she told the Doctor, as she pulled her thumb out of the Doctor’s cunt and sat up. 

The Doctor sighed, then made a surprised noise, as Yaz seized her by the hips and adjusted her. She squeaked when Yaz’s thumb pressed down on her clit, she gasped when the tip of Yaz’s index finger probed at her arse. She was a veritable symphony of new sounds and oh _god_ , now she sounded like one of Sonya’s romance novels inside her own head. She shook her head to clear it, and she let her finger sink a little deeper inside of the Doctor’s arse, and let herself be swept away by the sensations. 

It was hot inside, tight, velvety under her fingertip. She curled her finger just enough to make the knuckle bulge, and she pressed the thumb of her other hand back inside of the Doctor, finding the Doctor’s clit again and applying more pressure. The Doctor was panting now, and the Doctor’s heels were digging into her lower back, hard enough to leave bruises. She was moaning in time with each thrust of Yaz’s hand, and Yaz wished she could _see_ \- what was the look on the Doctor’s face, what did her fingers look like as they sank in? 

Then again, it was easier to do this in the dark. She didn’t have to think about what she looked like, as her fingers worked in and out of the Doctor, and her own face did who even knew what, as the Doctor got tighter and tighter around her fingers. The Doctor’s cunt was wet enough that Yaz’s thumb was starting to wrinkle up, and her toes curled against the hem of Yaz’s shirt, wrinkling the fabric. She was grunting, gasping, little bits of words popping out of her mouth, then fading away as she was overtaken with pleasure. The sounds of her being fucked - the wet squelching of her cunt, the soft sighs as Yaz thrust into her arse - seemed to fill the room like fog. 

“Yaz,” the Doctor cried. “Yaz, Yaz, Yaz, _Yaz_!” She was chanting now, and then she went stock still. Her arse clamped down, her cunt, and she was shaking so hard that Yaz was almost afraid she was in pain. She was sobbing, as she pulsed and quivered, and then the sobbing finally died down, and the only sound in the room was their breathing.

“Good, then?” Yaz tried to keep her tone light, as she eased her fingers out. Lacking anything else to do with them, she wiped them on the sheets.

“Fuck,” the Doctor said, her tone fervent. 

Yaz snickered. “I think I need to get the feeling back in my fingers first,” she told the Doctor, and then she was being grabbed by the shoulders, pushed flat on her back across the bed. It was almost too fast for Yaz to register it. One minute she was sitting up, the next she was sprawled on the bed, and the Doctor was straddling her hips. The neck of her tank top was being shoved down, and her tits had popped out. 

“Y’don’t have to -” Yaz started to say, and then she gasped, as the Doctor’s mouth closed over her nipple, the Doctor’s fingers plucking at the other one gently.

“I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you in that bright yellow police vest.” the Doctor said, her tone fervent. Her knee was pressed up between Yaz’s legs, right up against her clit.

“You can’t actually see anything under that thing,” Yaz said, which probably wasn’t the thing to say, but it _was_ the first thing that popped into her head.

“I know,” the Doctor mouthed at Yaz’s nipple, flicked her tongue against it, then moved to the other breast, biting it gently, then sucking it hard enough that it almost hurt. “‘S’what I like about it. Using my imagination. Knowing what’s under all that.” She shifted, and the bons of her knee were _right_ against Yaz’s clit.

Yaz hissed, her hips rolling forward. “‘Didn’t strike me as a you thing,” she said, and she wasn’t sure what she meant by that, because it was hard to _think_ , with the Doctor switching between nipples and grinding her knee in just the right way. The seam of her pajama pants was shoved right up against her clit, and it probably would have been easier if she just took them off, but that would mean letting go of the Doctor, and when had she grabbed on to the Doctor’s shoulders? She didn’t remember that.

The Doctor pushed Yaz’s breasts together, and she licked between Yaz’s nipples. She was rocking her leg, and the pressure seemed to be sending Yaz closer and closer to orgasm. 

_I am not going to come this fast_ , Yaz told herself firmly, and then the Doctor was leaning further up, her blond hair ticklish against Yaz’s face. Her tongue was faintly ticklish as it traced along the edge of Yaz’s ear, and her breath was loud. She took Yaz’s earlobe into her mouth and she tugged on Yaz’s nipple at the same time, and it all seemed to coalesce into a wave, and the pressure inside of her finally _snapped_. She came, shaking against the Doctor, and then she gently pushed the Doctor away, in need of some air.

“Wow,” said the Doctor. 

“I’m not usually that, uh…” Yaz cleared her throat. “Usually takes a bit more work than that,” she said, and she rubbed her sweaty, sticky face with the back of one hand. She still needed to wash her hands, wash her face. There was sweat collecting in her armpits, along her back, on the backs of her knees. Her hair was probably a tangled mess, from the Doctor’s fingers. 

“I’ll give it a proper go next time. With the lights on, all the bells and whistles, everythin’!” the Doctor promised. Her hand slid into Yaz’s, and she gave it a squeeze. “If you want there to be a next time, I mean,” she added, and there was an artificial brightness to her voice.

“Well,” Yaz said, sitting up, “I think, before any next time for _anything_ , I could do with a shower.” She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and she stood up on wobbling legs. Her pajama pants were wet and slimy, pressing against her over-sensitive vulva, and her breasts were still popping out from the neckline of the tank top. 

“Probably a good idea,” the Doctor agreed, and she was standing up as well, stretching. Yaz could hear the crack and pop of various joints. “Give the TARDIS a chance to change the sheets.” There was the sound of a loud yawn. “And then maybe some more sleep?” 

“Definitely,” Yaz agreed. “You can keep sleeping with me,” she added in a rush, because it seemed important to include that. 

Yaz could almost _hear_ the Doctor’s smile, and she felt her own face stretching out into one in return. They probably looked utterly ridiculous, but in the dark bedroom… who would be able to tell?


End file.
